


All's Fair in Love and War

by waywardwaffle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Eventual Smut, M/M, Porn With Plot, Slow Build Castiel/Dean Winchester, Soldier AU, Soldier Castiel, Soldier Dean, Top Castiel, World War I
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:30:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardwaffle/pseuds/waywardwaffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When British soldier Dean Winchester enlists to serve in World War I, he isn't expecting to find love. He certainly isn't expecting to find it in a German soldier.<br/>A slow-build love story between the most unlikely of suspects as they fight for their countries on the Western Front.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a REALLY short update to start off; I'll be trying to update regularly. I owe the credit for this idea to my BFF Kiera, who gave me the prompt to run with :) [her tumblr is castiel-is-so-supernova]  
> Rated Ex for language, gore, and some Destiel 'action' *wink wink*  
> Hope you enjoy! For the grand scheme of things, I expect this to be around 100k words.  
> Please leave me kudos and comments, it really means a lot! (and it may make me update faster... hint)  
> *I DON'T OWN ANY CHARACTERS INVOLVED IN SUPERNATURAL!*

“Hey, check out the new guys!” A stocky young man unfurled his legs from his crouched position, straightening as tall as he dared. It may have been quiet at that moment, but it was hard to forget the vicious war’s presence while living in the British trenches of the Western Front.  
“Fresh meat,” called another soldier, as a way of greeting. “Are you ready, kid?” he addressed one new soldier, reaching to cuff him on the back of the head. But as he swung his hand through the air, the kid snatched his arm to a stop without even looking.  
The kid flicked his icy-green eyes towards the older man, cutting his jeers short with an unflinching glare. “Ready if you are,” he said with a smirk, releasing the man’s wrist.  
The experienced soldier chuckled. “You got spunk, kid,”he said appreciatively. “My name’s Clark.”  
“I’m Dean,” replied the young soldier. He seemed to be around 18 years old, with short, sandy hair cropped close to his ears. His bright green eyes reflected a wisdom beyond his years, and there were a few tight lines along the corners of his eyes.  
“You’re in for a rough time, Dean,” Clark informed him.  
“I expect nothing less; I’m here to fight.”  
Usually Clark dismissed the greenies’ fervor as stupidity or immaturity. But there was something about Private Dean Winchester that he just couldn’t put his finger on.

 

It was pitch-dark and bitterly cold outside when Private Castiel Novak was roused for watch duty.  
“Sorry, Novak,” the soldier who’d woken him gave Castiel and apologetic pat on the shoulder. All of the soldiers despised the night vigil, usually reserved for soldiers within their first three months of service. It entailed bleak, freezing nights spent poking a periscope out of the trench, endlessly searching for any sign of enemy movement.  
Castiel sighed. Squinting at the tiny lens always gave him a headache, and he would really prefer to be sleeping instead of studying a motionless landscape for five hours. Of course, it was an important job, and he knew it was only fair that all new soldiers pay their dues.  
“Beautiful weather we’re having, eh, Gabe?” Castiel greeted his friend. They’d both joined the service two months ago, Castiel being one year younger at nineteen.  
“Ach, you fool,” Gabriel replied good-naturedly, “it’s freezing out here! It’s not going to be a fun night, I can tell you that.”  
Castiel nodded in agreement. “Have you received any letters from Greta lately?” he asked, referring to Gabe’s girlfriend back home.  
“Got another letter just yesterday,” said Gabe, his eyes clouded with longing. “She’s been missing me. I often wonder if it’s being cruel to remain with her while I am far away. She might be happier with someone who is there with her.”  
“No,” Castiel firmly interjected, “you’re making the right choice. You two are very much in love, and once love such as this is discovered, it should never be let go- no matter the circumstances.  
Gabriel took in Castiel’s passionate speech.  
“Speaking from experience, Castiel?” he queried.  
Castiel blushed, his deep blue eyes serious. “No… I haven't yet found love.”  
He didn’t voice the fear that had resided permanently in his chest since the day he became a soldier: that if he didn’t make it back from this war, he’d never find love at all.

 

~~~~~

 

Dean settled into his muddy alcove. He’d stayed in some awful lodgings; but all in all, this had to top the list. At least he was outside, breath forming tiny white clouds in the crisp, cool air.  
“Hello,” he looked up to see a timid-looking young man approach. He couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Dean fought back a smile,  
“What’s so funny?” the man asked. He sat down beside Dean, his knapsack flopping down onto his lap.  
“Sorry,” Dean replied, “you just look a lot like my kid brother.” he fished around for a photo.  
“This is him; his name’s Sam.”  
“Nice to indirectly meet you, Sam,” the man addressed the tattered photograph. “He joining the service?”  
Dean visibly flinched. “Hell no. Wouldn’t let him if he tried. He’s at university, though. Real smart— going for law.”  
“You must be proud,” remarked the other man.  
Dean smiled, eyes brightening. “I am. My name’s Dean, by the way.”  
“I’m Joe Harvelle,” replied the younger man.  
They were interrupted by the arrival of a group of soldiers. "Hey, babyface!" one called to Joe, "Go back home to Mommy!"  
"I didn't know they were letting twelve-year-olds into the war!"  
Dean saw Joe's downcast face and stood up so suddenly that the men instinctively took a step back. "Why don't you shut the fuck up, asshats, before I shut it for you." He took a threatening step forwards towards the group.  
"Just take it easy, man," said the ringleader, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender, "no need to overreact."  
Dean narrowed his eyes. "It wasn't an overreaction. Get out of here."  
The men hastily scurried away.  
The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched. “Bet you got a lot of shit in training about that.”  
“You have no idea,” Joe sighed.  
Dean put the photo of Sam back into his bag, “Well, don’t worry. Anyone gives you any more trouble here, you just let me know.”  
Joe smiled broadly. “I will.”

 

“Novak!” Castiel looked up to see Lieutenant Raphael striding towards him.  
“Cut the chatter, Novak, Milton,” Raphael scowled down at the two soldiers. “Don’t want you getting distracted and missing a signal.”  
“No, sir!” Gabriel and Castiel responded in unison. Raphael turned on his heel and continued back towards his quarters.  
“Geez, what’s got his knickers in a twist?” Gabe muttered.  
“I imagine he’s stressed about the deadline,” Castiel mused, “I mean, this war was supposed to be over by Christmas, and that’s only in two weeks’ time. As of now, we’re at something of a stalemate.”  
Gabe sighed. “Yes, when I signed up I too believed that his would be quick. It’s becoming a war of greater substance, though.”  
Castiel agreed. He’d left a comfortable flat in Berlin in an effort to serve his beloved nation; but had he imagined the lifestyle and duration of this war, he wasn’t sure if he’d have signed up.  
“What is that?” Gabriel suddenly snapped to attention like a dog who’d scented a rabbit. Castiel feverishly stared into his periscope, fighting to catch a glimpse of movement in the British trenches.  
As he studied the enemy’s side, he saw a quick flash of gold. Without even giving him time to think, suddenly there was a flash of brilliant green as Castiel found himself looking directly into the face of a British soldier!  
The soldier was only there for a split second before he realized his mistake, but Castiel still had enough opportunity to study him. It was a man about his age, with dark blond hair matted with mud. What really caught Castiel’s attention were the jade-green eyes of the man, reflecting the golden flash of his periscope.  
The British soldier’s head shot down in alarm as he realized he was being watched-  
but not before Castiel had taken all the details down to memory.  
It might be useful later.  
For the war effort, of course.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another quick one! my final exams will be over by next week, so be ready for some frequent updates :) I promise they'll start being longer chapters, but I just wanted to put something up so you knew I was still here!

Dean’s heart pounded as he flattened himself back down into the mud.  
“I didn’t realize how low you have to stay so you don’t stick out,” he commented to Joe, trying to project a nonchalance he didn’t feel. He’d seen a periscope, meaning a German soldier had been staring right at him. Why they didn’t shoot was a mystery that he certainly wasn’t going to argue with.  
Joe looked frightened. “I’ll have to watch myself, then. I’m even taller than you!”  
Truth be told, Dean was a little worried about Joe. Though he looked almost identical to Dean’s brother Sam, he possessed none of Sam’s self-awareness or grace. He truly was just a lanky, gawky kid, who looked so young it was surprising he’d even been allowed to enlist.  
A shout from the lieutenant startled them both. Lt. Crowley was a strict, traditional leader; but he was generally good-natured and had been friendly with Dean thus far. Now, however, he had a grave expression on his face.  
“Gentlemen,” Crowley began, “I’ve been issued orders to launch a forward strike, starting from this division. With any luck, this will jumpstart the war effort in our favor, and break this deadlock.”  
Many of the soldiers exchanged nervous glances, but Dean felt himself stiffen with excitement. His first battle: and such an important one, too!  
Dean looked around at the others as Lt. Crowley continued his address. He had been expecting more of a positive response to the news than the fearful silence of the other soldiers.  
Even Joe looked excited. “I can’t wait to try out our training,” he whispered. Everyone began to gradually filter back to their stations, and Dean settled back into his alcove to rest, minding his height when he changed positions.  
“I’m going to write a letter to my mom,” Joe said. “Want any paper for yours, too?”  
Dean’s eyes clouded slightly. “Yeah, sure. I’m gonna write to Sammy.”  
The two men sat in silence as they wrote. For all their excitement, they couldn’t deny the nervousness seeping into the pits of their stomachs. 

 

“Invasion! Invas-“ Castiel jolted awake in the middle of the night, the guard’s words cut off suddenly. Everyone around him became instantly awake, scrambling to retrieve their weapons. Castiel gripped the MG 08 gun that he’d been assigned and gave Gabriel a sharp kick in the ribs to rouse him. “Hurry!”  
The two of them ran to their stations, pushing past hordes of other soldiers sprinting every which way. Hurried feet stirred up dust from the ground, and the icy air was clouded with pieces of dirt. They could hardly hear the orders from Lt. Raphael over the roar of weapons firing.  
Castiel fired one random shot across No Man’s Land in the general direction of the British. He was in absolute disbelief that they’d been able to get the jump on his troop. During the time between battles, in relative peace, it was easy to forget how vulnerable each soldier was. It almost seemed as if the Germans were invincible; untouchable by the enemy that sat like a cat stalking mice barely feet from their trench.  
“Ach mein Gott!” Castiel flinched as an area of the trench somewhere to his right went up in an explosion of dust and flame. That could have just as easily been him and Gabriel, blown from the world before they could even appeal to God.  
Gabe let out a shout of triumph as his shot connected with a soldier on the other side. Castiel continued shooting, but found himself questioning his actions. He’d never before had trouble following orders; he was known to be a very skilled and loyal young soldier. But what made the innocent men in the British trench any less deserving of life than him, or any other German? Why was he blindly following orders that didn’t make sense?  
“Castiel!” the panicked shout from his friend gave him just enough time to duck his head. He heard the sharp, high pitched whistle of a bullet soaring past. Now was certainly not the time to be contemplating the complexities of warfare- he had to focus on staying alive.

 

Dean squinted one eye as he aimed a shot across at the Germans. With a grim sort of satisfaction, he watched as it hit its mark, sending a man flying backwards. The enemy men were so far away that they didn’t seem real; just toy soldiers toppling over backwards like books off a shelf. As far as Dean was concerned, that was a good thing. It made him less hesitant to pull the trigger.  
The problem was that he had fantastic aim. Yes, it was technically appreciated when every single shot you aimed hit the target. But it also meant that each flick of his finger on the trigger, every bullet sent spiraling from his trench to the other, guaranteed another casualty. And truth be told, Dean wasn’t positive he liked being the one ending the lives. What had happened to saving them?  
“Dean!” he instinctively flattened down onto his stomach at the frantic cry from Joe. A bullet smashed into the rock behind him, the crash echoing wildly in his ears. Heart racing, he straightened up and continued. There was no excuse for his own stupidity getting him killed.  
He kept an eye on Joe as his friend tentatively shot, the recoil of the gun almost flipping him over backwards. Dean had no idea how the kid’s family had allowed him to come here, unless they were hoping it was a suicide mission.  
“Joe, get down!” he yelled, stepping over the boy and continuing his rapid firing. As far as he was concerned, it was his personal duty to get the kid through his tour safely. He would not let himself fail. 

 

Cas sighed in relief as the last of the lingering bullets slowed. It had been a lengthy skirmish, and at this point he’d been stepping over more dead bodies than live ones.  
“Castiel!” A panicky voice sounded just behind him. Turning around, he saw a man supporting what looked to be a bloody pile of rags. He reached forward to share the weight, horrified to see the object stir slightly. He had expected it, and prayed for it not to be the case, but it was indeed another soldier. The face was grotesquely twisted, and didn’t even much resemble a face at that point; Cas knew that even with his help, even with the help of the entire Triple Entente, this man was beyond saving. Still, he awkwardly shuffled to the medical cove, supporting the poor soul’s shoulders.  
“Just put me down,” it pleaded, blood trailing out of the corner of one eye. It mixed with the leaking tears, forming a thin pink like that of a watercolor sunset. “Let me die.”  
“I’m sorry,” Cas replied. He glanced up to the other man sharing the weight. To his surprise, the taller man had tears freely flowing down his cheeks and yet did not speak a word.  
The two deposited the dying man at the medical tent, stretching his thin frame out in the damp mud. Cas couldn’t help but think how similar he looked to the numerous bodies littering the trench. Some were face down, others with glassy eyes staring up at the night sky; their mothers, their brothers, their wives, their children, all shared that sky with them. The families were probably looking up at it right now, hoping that their beloved was looking at it too.  
Staring without seeing didn’t count, as far as Cas was concerned.


End file.
